


Bang Bang

by TheRudeTasteofSane



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRudeTasteofSane/pseuds/TheRudeTasteofSane
Summary: Just another soulmate AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the end notes for possible triggers.

Taemin glanced down at the lines on his wrist. Almost a full tally count now, four neat lines in a row. 3 were a hateful, reddish ropy-looking scar. One was a fresh, bold black.

  
He was deeply unhappy about its appearance, cursing the world for his bad fortune. Anyone who saw his wrist (on the ultra-rare occasion he left it uncovered) gave him a sympathetic, pitying look.

  
3 potential soulmates, gone before he’d reached 30.

  
===

  
His first mark scarred over when he was 7. It had been a boy in his class named Minho.

  
Minho was a skinny, pale boy who spent a lot of time by himself reading. Not someone Taemin had ever noticed before, as he had his own circle of friends. Taemin had wrinkled his nose, puzzled as to why his soulmate was another _boy_. But his mother always told him to be polite, so Taemin extended the hand of friendship.

  
He didn't regret it. Minho's eyes had lit up when Taemin walked over, latching onto the boy with unhindered enthusiasm. And Taemin discovered that Minho was really fun to play with, even if he tired easily. Their school year hadn’t quite ended when Taemin was on the playground and felt his arm burning. His mark changed before his very eyes and he panicked, crying for their teacher. Next to Taemin, Minho's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed.

  
The teacher rushed over and scooped Minho's body off the ground. She took one last look at Taemin, staring at him with the same sad, knowing eyes people gave him now. Then she was gone, before Taemin had a chance to ask what was going on.

  
The next time Taemin saw Minho, it was in a casket, saying the first of many goodbyes.

  
===

  
His second scar came when he was 17.

 

  
Taemin was very much in love with his best friend Jinki, who was going away to university in three months. His separation anxiety was causing problems between them, but he held out hope that they could work through it. They were soulmates, after all. Soulmates were supposed to be able to work through anything together.

  
He was on the phone with his neighbor Jongin, asking if he wanted to go to the arcade when he dropped to his knees, arm burning in a way he had sincerely wished he’d never feel again. Only this time, it was much more painful. A sharp stabbing pain ripped through Taemin, radiating from scar on his arm. Jongin was on the other end of the line, nearly shouting with worry.

  
All Taemin could do was cry, knowing that somehow.. Jinki was about to die.

  
It was 5 hours later when Taemin got the news from Jinki’s parents that he’d been in a car accident. He was heading back from orientation at his university when he’d been hit by a drunk driver.

  
“There were--,” Jinki’s mother took a moment to compose herself “There were f-flowers for you in the backseat,” she told Taemin. “The card said.. _I'm sorry, things will get better_.”

  
Taemin ended the call, throwing the phone away from him. Logically, he knew that the accident wasn't his fault. But he couldn't help feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt, convincing himself that if he'd just kept his mouth shut about his problems, Jinki would still be alive.

 

He closed himself off, like a turtle retracting into his shell. He became much quieter, firmly resisting any attempts at comfort. He even went so far as to change schools, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pitying stares and offers of fake sympathy.

  
He quickly made it known that he wasn’t interested in being friends with anyone at his new school, coolly rejecting offers to be in various clubs and teams, with one exception. The dance team. The one outlet he allowed himself for his feelings, because when he was dancing, he had no time to think about his lost loves, to think about what could’ve been. It was just him, the beat of the music, and the groove of his body.

  
His dance teammates gave him the nickname Ice Prince, but that suited him just fine. The less people he interacted with, the more pain he was saving himself in the long run.

  
Secretly, he lived in fear that he’d wake up one day and have another mark. Nightmares plagued him, and he learned to stuff a towel underneath his door at night to prevent his parents from hearing his screams.

  
Eventually, he settled into a deadened state. Still outwardly cold and hostile, but inwardly… There was nothing. No joy, no hate. No sign of life.

  
Then, just when he thought he was safe, he woke up one morning after he’d turned 21, and it wasn’t a nightmare. There was a fresh line on his arm.

  
He nearly killed himself that day. If it hadn’t been for his mother coming in to warn him about being late for his classes, he would’ve succeeded.

  
Taemin met his third soulmate at the psych ward of the hospital he was in. Kibum, nicknamed Key, was severely manic depressive. But as soon as they laid eyes on each other, they knew they were meant to be.

  
Privately, Taemin mused with black humor that it was fitting to meet in the nuthouse. Basketcases belonged with their own kind.

  
Kibum was different than Taemin’s previous soulmates. Loud and borderline obnoxious, but only on the surface. When they were alone, Kibum was serious and affectionate. Taemin tried to reciprocate. He did. The therapy he went through helped him greatly with his outlook on life, on dealing with his survivor's guilt.

  
But he couldn’t seem to shake his old habits. Not talking about anything, wrapping himself in the security blanket of ignoring his issues. Taemin could tell it was getting to Kibum, causing insecurities about their relationship. He tried even harder to show Kibum that there was nothing to worry about. He was desperate for this to last, because he was tired of the feeling of being totally alien, so different from everyone else that it actually physically hurt.

  
Unfortunately, Kibum could also be pretty close-mouthed about the things that were really bothering him.

  
Taemin thought they’d cleared up the misunderstandings. He thought things were going well.

  
He was on his way to Kibum’s apartment coming home from class, hoping to surprise Kibum with some of his favorite chocolate when he realized he was wrong.

  
He swerved and nearly wrecked at the feeling of a burning sensation on his arm. He didn’t have to look anymore to know that Kibum’s line would be that same, ugly shade of red he'd grown to hate. The color of his failure to protect and care about those he was attached to.

  
This time, there wasn’t much of a waiting period. He sped through red lights, frantic to get to Kibum’s apartment.

  
When he got there, Kibum’s lifeless body was slumped over the toilet.

  
There were no words to describe his emotional state.

  
He went catatonic. Not eating, only managing to fall asleep when he was completely exhausted. He barely moved from his bed. He was breathing. His heart was beating. But these things meant nothing. He was an empty shell, the parts of him that made him human extinguished like a candle.

  
He never wanted another soulmate. Ever. He would be wrong for them, the shape he was in now. And they would be wrong for him, in the worst ways possible.

  
He prayed fervently, silently begging whoever was in charge of his fate that he couldn’t handle any more.

  
For several years, Taemin got his wish. Life went on, mercilessly pulling him forward to pick up the pieces of himself. The ones that were left, anyway. He even managed to be happy in his own way, at least for a while before things fucked up again.

  
His 29th birthday was rapidly approaching, and he was feeling like maybe a drink or two before going home was in order. He was in the washroom of the building he worked at, washing his hands before returning to work, when a coworker came in. Taemin smiled politely, and the guy pointed towards his arm.

  
“Congrats, Taemin. I’m happy for you,” Taemin looked down, and his smile froze in place.

  
He felt the world shatter.

  
He asked to go home early that day, feeling sick to his stomach. As soon as the front door of his apartment closed behind him, he slid down the wall and sobbed like he hadn’t in years.

  
He went to work the next morning wondering how he’d meet his new soulmate, despite himself. He didn’t dare to hope it would work out. He couldn’t, considering his past experience with soulmates. He simply didn’t believe good things came from knowing you had a soulmate out there.

  
Any time someone spoke to him, he shied away. He was already a loner at work, but he had at least told people his name. Now, he said even less, and if someone happened to be asking for directions to a particular office, he just shook his head and pointed to another worker.

  
3 weeks passed, then a month. 2 months after receiving the line on his arm, Taemin still hadn’t met his soulmate. He had always met his new soulmate within 2 weeks of having a mark appear, but he supposed maybe it wouldn’t always happen that way.

  
He wished it would be years before their meeting.

  
But as per usual, luck was not on Taemin’s side.

  
He was sitting at the bus stop just looking at the surrounding area when his wandering gaze was arrested by a cutesy, happy couple. Arms around each other, laughing and smiling. They were even wearing couple shirts, sickeningly enough.

  
Taemin’s attention was solely focused on the man.

  
A rather short man, all things considered. But his face was gorgeous enough to be plastered on billboards all over the world. Taemin's eyes zeroed in on a marital ring winking distantly on the man’s finger.

  
Laughter burst out of him in a rush, surprising him with the intensity and loudness. A part of him was relieved that he was safe. Crazily enough, though… There was just as big of a part that was disappointed.

  
Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. People were looking at him funny, edging away from him on the bench.

  
He couldn't blame them.

**Author's Note:**

> Character death, attempted suicide, deep depression, and emotional trauma abound.


End file.
